


Heart Shaped

by prophet_of_troy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter Cooks, Morning After, One Night Stands, Or Is It?, Pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prophet_of_troy/pseuds/prophet_of_troy
Summary: Pansy woke up after a hazy one night stand, completely prepared to sneak out and pretend it never happened. Harry had other ideas.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26
Collections: My Sweet Valentine





	Heart Shaped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkAngelOfSorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=DarkAngelOfSorrow).



She woke up with a smile and a delicious ache between her legs; stretching and contorting as one did when their minds had yet to fully wake. The sun was too bright, blinding her through the curtains as the migraine made itself known and the realization came to her that  _ her  _ hotel room faced west. She sat up in a panic. 

She didn’t. She can’t have. 

But hazy memories of the night before floated to mind the harder she thought about it, of laughing and drinking with a faceless stranger- making her heartbeat spike just at the blurred image of whoever he was. She could vaguely remember kissing him, and the feel of his hands. She imagined that was him elsewhere in the hotel suite, making those sounds that she could suppose had woken her up in the first place. She  _ hoped  _ that was him.

The sudden worst-case-scenario of an angry wife or girlfriend followed those faint images of the night before.

Pansy threw the blanket off of her, cursing, and fumbling around the room for her clothes- for her wand- having to charm the broken zipper on her dress to stick back in place. She looked awful, she could tell. She could feel that her hair was everywhere, she could feel how swollen her lips were, and she’d worn cosmetics the night before; probably smudged across her face now. 

Walk of shame, indeed. Some asshole gave it that term, she was sure. Some pureblood cuckold with nothing better to do than judge people. 

Righteousness roiled in her with hunger, but shame and anxiety were exactly what she felt as she tiptoed through the suite with her shoes in her hand, having been unable to find her bra- the nice one. 

It was male, whoever that was fumbling in the kitchen and keeping her from being able to make a clean getaway. He was whistling, and sort of dancing as he made breakfast. It smelled delicious, and her stomach voiced its opinion on the matter. 

He turned to her at the sound and grinned. “You’re awake!”

Harry fucking Potter. He was standing there shirtless and barefoot at the stove with a utensil in one hand and a plate poised in the other; looking back at her, innocent and adorable. As though they hadn’t done any of the wild things her memories were telling her they did. 

Pansy’s chest tightened, her mouth felt a little dry, and she couldn’t decide at that moment if she should just run toward the door or suggest they revisit their previous activities. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked in her silence, turning back to the stove and glancing at her over his shoulder. 

There’d been rumours, and she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it, that he had a tattoo of a Hungarian Horntail. They’d been wrong. It was a stag, blue and shimmery and proud on the back of his shoulder.

“Fine,” she whispered, her eyes roving over him before she could stop herself. She cleared her throat and repeated louder, more certain of herself. “I slept fine.”

He grinned at her, giving her heart that spike again. “Good. I, uh, hope you don’t mind, but I made breakfast. I thought you might be hungry after last night, and you did say you like pancakes.”

His grin had gone rogue at the mention of their adult activities, impish, and then back to absolutely charming. This was why he’d always gotten away with everything, she was sure. 

“I-I did? I mean, right. Yes. I-I do like pancakes.”

“Have a seat,” he nodded toward a small table with two chairs.  
She could remember almost everything from the night before, foggy and shadowed in her head, but she remembered. Her heart lifted and floated at it, them seeing each other at the bonfire on the beach and talking for hours. He too was on vacation.

Pansy set her shoes down and went over to it, watching him as she did and trying to think of something to say, but the only thing that came to mind was, “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He didn’t seem offended. He smiled at her, similar more to one she had seen him use with his friends- Granger and Weasel- rather than the devilish grin he’d had before. He glanced over at her with those shamrock eyes against his tan skin. His hair was as wild as hers was. 

“I imagine there’s quite a bit you don’t know about me.”

She found herself smiling back without trying, without making the decision to. Maybe he talked himself out of trouble, she briefly contemplated, rather than charming his way. He said it in a way that implied future engagements where she might learn those things about him she didn’t currently know. 

He looked back at the stovetop and chuckled. “Well, that happened.”

Pansy stood up and walked over, feeling pulled to him. “What?”

The current cooking pancake was now a golden heart. Two pancakes were already on a plate, perfectly round, and Harry set the heart-shaped pancake on top of them- looking at her with a half-smile as he did. 

“Oops,” he whispered unconvincingly. 

She laid a hand on his chest, looking at it and smirking to herself and the sudden surge of mischievousness. Pansy glanced up at him with her smirk and challenged, “I bet you couldn’t do that again.”

“What do I get if I can?”

She pretended to think about it. “A kiss.”

“Two.”

“Okay,” she laughed, stepping away and letting her hand fall away from him. “Two kisses.”

Harry turned back, pouring more of the batter onto the griddle into a shape. She could hear the shushing sound it made and lifted herself onto the island counter to watch. He was fascinating to watch, and she supposed she could admit she’d always sort of thought so. As children it was amazing to watch the elves in his head working to save the day, and defeat whatever evil had its claws in the school that year. 

She didn’t keep tabs on him after the war and only knew from the Daily Prophet that he’d surprised everyone by going into politics. 

_ “He wants to prevent the next Dark Lord,” _ she’d heard Granger say once at work.

“Last night was fun,” he told her, his back still to her. 

Pansy pulled herself out of her mind and back to the kitchen. 

“It was,” she admitted, smiling. “I woke up expecting to sneak out and go back to my room, but here you were making me breakfast.”

He glanced back over his shoulder briefly. “Are you disappointed?”

She laughed, feeling lighter and happier than she had been in some time. “Not at all. Pleasantly surprised, I guess, but not disappointed.”

Harry turned to her expectantly; with a silly grin and two plates of four pancakes each, only two of them round and the rest of them in that same heart shape as before. She rolled her eyes and scoffed at him, that puppy quality to his pride.

“Well, now,  _ that’s _ just showing off.”

“I’m not the one that set the challenge,” he reminded her. 

She beamed back at him and pulled him closer to give him his prize.

Her memory had forgotten to tell her how amazing of a kisser he was. Harry set the plates down on either side of her and held her by the waist, stepping between her legs to return her kiss. By the time he pulled away, they were both breathless and laughing. He helped her down from the counter, keeping his arms around her. 

“You know,” he said. “I don’t know that these pancakes will be enough.”

“Oh?” she asked, watching his lips as he spoke.

“Yeah. Maybe I should take you to lunch too.”

Pansy grinned back and pulled him in for another kiss.


End file.
